


Cold Cases

by juniperberry



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Case Fic, Inspired by..., M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperberry/pseuds/juniperberry
Summary: It was a tenuous connection at best, and most likely sheer coincidence. Shinohara Matsuri, twenty-two, educational student, found choked to death in her apparently locked apartment; and Yagami Midori, seven years old, missing for a year before her remains were uncovered in a park by two teenage boys.The boys went to the private school that Shinohara had been interning at; it was at least a twenty-minute walk from the park where Yagami Midori had been found. And the boys had found her skeleton at a very odd hour: past midnight.What would two high school boys be doing digging in a park at nearly one in the morning?





	Cold Cases

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In My Line Of Work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/416293) by [Leareth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leareth/pseuds/Leareth). 



> I was pretty heavily inspired by Leareth's "In My Line of Work," and ten years on I'm fairly certain it shows. But I'm including a link to that excellent fic, so please, if you're a TB/X fan, go read it if you haven't already! Seriously, this was originally posted almost ten years ago, so fair warning on that. 
> 
> I haven't even re-read this, but I know for years after I posted it originally I would get comments on it, so hopefully it's still entertaining.

Author's Note: This was at least partially inspired by Leareth's X fic, In My Line of Work, and also by all the dead bodies that xxxHolic tends to toss up there. CLAMP will probably joss this in the very near future; nonetheless, it's set around vol. 9-10, pre-window incident.

Detective Tezuka Akira chewed on the end of a pencil and wished it were a cigarette. He was stuck reviewing, and investigating, some chilly cases from a year or more ago, in hopes that a fresh eye would turn up something.

Thus far, very little had turned up to give any of them a new lead.

Well, except for two cases.

It was a tenuous connection at best, and most likely sheer coincidence. Shinohara Matsuri, twenty-two, educational student, found choked to death in her apparently locked apartment; and Yagami Midori, seven years old, missing for a year before her remains were uncovered in a park by two teenage boys.

The boys went to the private school that Shinohara had been interning at; it was at least a twenty-minute walk from the park where Yagami Midori had been found. And the boys had found her skeleton at a very odd hour: past midnight.

What would two high school boys be doing digging in a park at nearly one in the morning?

Tezuka spit out a small piece of eraser—god, why had he chosen now to quit smoking?—and sifted between the two files.

Shinohara Matsuri. Educational student, folklore major, suspected of cheating on her last major assignment. Specifically, she was accused of plagiarism. She was also a witness to the suicide of Suzuki Koutarou, who had thrown himself in front of a train. That case had actually progressed quite quickly to a homicide investigation, as it appeared that Suzuki was pushed, not thrown of his own free will. And, perhaps coincidentally, Shinohara was one of the people closest to him on the platform.

That still didn’t explain how she had died. She had been choked to death, by someone with massive strength—enough strength to use only one hand. There were no other contusions on her body that indicated a prolonged struggle, nor any other signs to show that her attacker held her down in any way. There were only five marks on her, around her neck, and they were far slimmer and longer than any human fingers he’d ever seen. The killer, whoever he or she may have been, had left no physical evidence to track them by.

The only thing, in fact, that he was going on, was that Shinohara Matsuri had been a student teacher at Cross Private Academy, shortly before she’d died. She had finished her last day the same day she died.

Tezuka set aside the Shinohara file. He’d speak with her teachers and friends in the morning. Now he wanted to go over Yagami Midori’s file.

There was as little for Yagami-chan as there had been for Shinohara. Less, really, since all they had found were bones. She had gone missing from a park, though not the same park she’d been found in. There had been no witnesses, and while they had some evidence from her clothes, she’d been buried close enough to the surface that a great deal of evidence had either been washed away or simply decayed into uselessness. He didn’t relish the idea of interviewing her parents, who had held out hope until that last day.

“So,” his partner said, “ what are we doing, exactly?”

“Cold cases, Kisaragi,” he said, and held them up to show her. She raised an eyebrow and pointed to the pencil in his mouth.

“I quit smoking,” was his only defense. 

“Good,” she said. “Which do you want to go over first?”

“Shinohara, I think,” he said. “I’ve already got a potential lead. Stay here and look over the Yagami file, okay?” He tossed it to her. She caught it, but the look in her eyes told him he’d pay for it.

“And where will you be?”

“Cross Private Academy,” he said. “See you at lunch!”

“Don’t choke on an eraser, Tezuka,” she called, and he let the door close behind him.

***

“Shinohara? Yes, I think I remember her….” The teacher paused and pursed her lips, tapping them with her pen. “She was very confident, very self-assured.”

“Do you remember if she hung out with anyone in the school specifically?” Tezuka asked. “Any of the teachers, or student teachers? It may be important.”

“Hmm,” the woman said. “Not that I remember…oh, well, I do remember something.” She fidgeted, trying to recall.

Tezuka waited. It could be nothing, it could be everything, and pushing too hard too soon might let something important slip away.

“Yes,” the teacher said at last. “I gave a good mark on her reference. I saw her talking with one of our lonelier students.”

A lonely student? “And who would that be?” he asked.

“Watanuki,” she said. “Watanuki Kimihiro-kun. A good student, but he only ever interacts with a few other students. He’s rather odd and anti-social, actually, but he’s perfectly polite.”

“Might I speak to his homeroom teacher?” Tezuka asked. “Or the headmaster, perhaps?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “His homeroom teacher is Segawa-sensei. He’ll be able to tell you more.”  
***

Segawa had led him to the headmaster, and the headmaster had simply given him Watanuki’s file. When Tezuka had asked about the approval of a parent or guardian, the headmaster had simply shrugged.

“Watanuki-kun has no parents,” he had said, “and the closest thing he has to guardians are a pair of apartment managers—oddballs, if you ask me. They have trouble keeping their phone connected.” He’d waved a wrinkled hand at the folder in Tezuka’s hands. “You have my permission to read that, as you are going through a homicide investigation. Just don’t harass any of our students without just cause, if you please.”

All this led to Tezuka chewing on another pencil, at a table in the quad set up for students eating out-of-doors. The file was fairly non-descript, much like Watanuki-kun at first glance—he got fair grades, though the only things he stood out in were physical education and, oddly, home economics. Tezuka made a mental note to speak with the teachers of both subjects, and read on.

Watanuki’s parents had died several years ago in a freak accident. There were apparently no living relatives able to take him in, and he’d somehow avoided the notice of the Department of Social Services. Instead, he had stayed in the apartment complex his parents had last lived in, and the apartment managers looked out for him. He got into very few fights with other children, the most notable of which was a clash with one Doumeki Shizuka at the start of high school. Other than that, teachers noted that he was polite, helpful, courteous, but rather anti-social. He apparently had few friends. All in all, he was a quiet but ordinary teenager.

Except, apparently, for the “fits.”

Notation after notation, teacher after teacher—not just Cross Private, but going back all the way to kindergarten—little notes about Watanuki complaining of monsters, or writhing on the ground, or speaking to people who simply weren’t there. Some of it, Tezuka supposed, could be attributed to grief over his parents’ deaths; but it had started years before.

Mentally disturbed? Tezuka wondered. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had slipped under the radar, only to commit heinous crimes years later. Most of the notes, though, described Watanuki-kun as being fearful, or else surprised that no one else could see his invisible friends. The most violent tendencies he’d found thus far were the fits, in which Watanuki-kun never hurt anyone else, and that fight with Doumeki Shizuka—which was a moot point, now, as he was one of the two students consistently noted for being in Watanuki’s company.

Tezuka sighed and chewed his pencil a little harder. 

There was only a small mention of Shinohara in Watanuki’s file, and it simply indicated that she had spoken with him a few times. There was nothing to indicate any sort of violent conflict, crush, or anything that might have led to murder. Nothing on paper, anyway. 

Still, Tezuka decided, it was worth speaking to Watanuki for two reasons. Firstly, Shinohara had spoken to him more than any other student on an individual level. Secondly, he was friends with Doumeki Shizuka, and Doumeki Shizuka had been one of the boys to discover Yagami Midori’s bones, buried beneath a hydrangea in a park not far from the school. Tezuka wondered if it was worth betting on the identity of the other boy involved in the discovery.

***

Watanuki Kimihiro proved remarkably hard to track down. Tezuka had interviewed both of the teachers in Watanuki’s standout subjects, and had come away with a few more impressions to work with.

“Watanuki-kun makes the best cakes!” his home economics teacher had said. “He sews best in the class, too, but his specialty is cooking.”

“Watanuki?” his gym teacher had echoed, scratching his chin. “Well, I don’t know why the kid isn’t on the track team—he runs faster and longer than just about anyone else, but he says he can’t join—has some sort of part-time job. Some antique store, I think.”

None of this actually got him any closer to solving the Shinohara case, though, and Tezuka concluded he’d have to speak to the boy himself.

The only problem with that was that school was long dismissed, and the boy in question worked at a shop Tezuka didn’t know the name of—nor could he seem to track it down. It was frustrating, but inevitable in police work.

Which was why he was standing outside the school gates the next afternoon, waiting, scanning the students, and sweating in his shortsleeves. Watanuki had to be here somewhere, and his job could wait a little bit for a detective. As it turned out, Watanuki was remarkably easy to find.

“…And just because you have a bottomless pit for a stomach, doesn’t mean I have the funds to make you bigger lunches!” This tirade was delivered by a boy who matched the pictures in Tezuka’s file perfectly, and it was delivered to a boy with his fingers in his ears. They were dressed in the simple summer uniform of a button-up white shirt and black pants.

“Watanuki Kimihiro-kun?”

“Ah--?” The boy with glasses turned to look at him, and smiled. “That’s me. Can I help you?”

“I’m Detective Tezuka,” he said, and pulled out his badge. Watanuki blinked, obviously surprised. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

Watanuki cocked his head, squinted a little, then looked at the boy he’d been yelling at. “You see him, right?” he asked, almost low enough to avoid Tezuka’s ears.

Almost.

“Yeah,” the boy replied, and Watanuki was smiling politely again. “I’d be happy to speak to you,” he said. “I do have a job I have to get to, though—“

“Surely it can wait?” Tezuka didn’t want to lose the only lead he might possibly have. Watanuki might know nothing, but he was the only unexplored lead in the Shinohara case.

“I’m sorry,” Watanuki said. “The woman I work for is usually pretty exacting and demanding. Um…I could meet you after work, if it’s not pressing...?”

“I’d appreciate that,” Tezuka said. “Just give me a time and place.”

“There’s a burger place not far from the shop,” Watanuki said. “It’s called Duklyon—it’s pretty easy to find. I should be able to get off by nine….” He trailed off. “It’s not a full moon tonight, is it?”

“No,” the other boy said.

“Definitely nine, then,” Watanuki said. “If that’s okay with you? I know it’s a little late, but….”

“It’s fine,” Tezuka said. “I’ll see you then, Watanuki-kun.”

Watanuki and his friend bowed and left, and Tezuka watched them go. Watanuki had been exactly what his teachers had said—polite, a little aloof without being arrogant, responsible. The only odd thing—outside of his remark to his friend—was that Watanuki did not have two blue eyes, as in his school picture; rather, he had one blue eye and one golden-brown, nearly yellow eye, like that of a hawk. Maybe he was experimenting with colored contacts.

The boy with him was most likely Doumeki Shizuka. Tezuka decided it was a good idea to know what he looked like—he still had Yagami’s case to investigate and stir up, and the two boys who discovered her bones were at the top of his list.

He tugged out his cell phone and dialed a number he knew by heart, the desk phone of his partner.

***  
The Duklyon burger joint was indeed open, and Tezuka settled himself easily into a booth among the smells of frying beef, rice, and the sounds of clanging fry pans and popping grease. His partner—undoubtedly annoyed at doing most of the deskwork—had just waltzed through the door. Her skirt swished crisply and the fluorescent lights gleamed off her golden tiger tie pin. She made him wait while she ordered a steaming cup of coffee.

“Honestly,” she said, dropping a thin file onto the tabletop in front of him, “a burger joint?” She slid into the seat opposite him. 

“Not my choice, Kisaragi,” he said. “What’s this?”

“Information on one Doumeki Shizuka. Clean as a whistle, if you ask me.” She took her coffee from the waitress, and sat back to look at him. “I couldn’t find anything on him. What about that Watanuki kid?”

“He’s the one we’re meeting,” Tezuka said. “You’ve read the file, right?”

“And your notes,” she said. 

“Did you investigate the apartment managers?”

“Hmm.” She sipped her coffee, though how she could drink something so hot when it was regularly sweltering outside he’d never know. “Yeah. Pretty good people, according to the tenants, though they are a bit odd. Science geeks that like to experiment.”

Tezuka sighed and leaned back in the seat. “Watanuki’s a strange one,” he murmured.

“I don’t know…he doesn’t strike me as the obsessed stalker-murderer type, Tezuka.” 

“Me neither,” he said. “But appearances can be deceiving.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “As if I don’t know that,” she said. “Still, you think he’s worth questioning?”

Tezuka sighed. “At this point, I’m willing to question anyone who is even remotely connected. With Shinohara there’s almost nothing, and Yagami-chan has less than that.”

Kisaragi tilted her head, her eyes razor-edged. “Yagami?”

“Watanuki is friends with the boy who called in the location of her body.” Tezuka chewed on another pencil. “Three guesses who the other boy with him was?”

“Do you know that for certain?”

“Don’t need too. It’s why I asked you to bring the Yagami file.” 

She gave him another sharp look—sharp enough to cut—but he looked away when the door of the diner opened. Watanuki stepped inside, still in his school uniform and carrying his school satchel and a plain white paper shopping bag. He glanced around, spotted them, and made his way over.

“Detective?”

“Watanuki-kun,” Tezuka said, “have a seat. This is Kisaragi Mieko, my partner.”

The schoolboy gave her a bow. “Nice to meet you, Kisaragi-san.”

She bowed back, and he tenatively sat next to her. “What can I help you with?”

“We’d like to ask you about Shinohara Matsuri,” Tezuka said. The boy blinked his mis-matched eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t recognize the name.”

Tezuka flipped open the file on Shinohara and pulled out a picture—a photo her family had supplied, rather than one from the crime scene. Watanuki’s face lit up in recognition. 

“Oh, yes—how is she? She stopped teaching at the school, and I didn’t hear anything else about her….”

Kisaragi’s eyes narrowed. “It was on the news,” she said. “She was strangled the same day her stint at your school finished.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear that….I don’t often watch television.”

“So this is the first you’ve heard of it?” Tezuka pressed. The kid looked honest enough, and his surprise seemed genuine. 

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Tezuka sat back. “The teachers told me Shinohara-san spoke with you a few times. Were you friends?”

“Er…not really. She visited the shop I work at, and she’d…bought something. We chatted about it a few times.”

“What was it?” Kisaragi asked mildly. 

“Ah…you’ll probably laugh. She bought a monkey’s paw.”

Kisaragi lifted an eyebrow. “A severed monkey’s paw?”

“Yes. The kind you hear about in stories.” Now the kid’s face was tense and pensive. “Yuuko-san—she’s the woman I work for—warned her it wasn’t suited to her, but she wanted it anyway. So Yuuko sold it to her, and we talked at school, and that was that.” He looked quite sad about it, actually. But very sincere.

Well, shit.

“Watanuki-san,” Kisaragi said, “do you know this girl?”

She laid down a photograph of a young girl, maybe seven years old, with her hair bobbed and two round pigtails on either side of her head. She was giving the camera a cheerful smile. Tezuka was watching Watanuki, not the movements of Kisaragi’s hands, and he saw the look—recognition, fondness—flow across his face. Then the kid shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “If that’s all, I need to go home and do my homework.”

“You said you don’t know this girl,” Kisaragi said, “but it looked as though you knew her.” She sat back a little, sipping her coffee. “Have you seen her around the neighborhood, maybe?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Are you sure?” Tezuka asked. He leaned across the table top, staring intently into the kid’s face. A flustered bit of guilt passed across the kid’s features, but other than that, it was a mask. Pretty good mask for a high school kid.

“I gotta say, kid, I don’t believe you,” he said. “You look as though you’ve seen her before. And you were one of the boys that found her body, am I right?”

He and Kisaragi both could see the reality flash across the kid’s face at that. “I…I mean….”

“See,” Tezuka said, leaning forward, “the thing is, what were you two doing out there, to find her body like that? In the middle of the night, no less? And I can tell you recognize her. So you had to know her before she died—and I find it a pretty big fish story that you not only found her body, but that you found it in the middle of the night, in a park, where you barely had to dig at all.” 

The kid’s face was losing what little color it had. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“Tell me,” Kisaragi said, her voice like smooth silk, “was it just you that killed her, or did Doumeki Shizuka help?”

He stared at the both of them like a deer in headlights. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he said. “I wouldn’t. And Doumeki wouldn’t, either. The price is too high.”

Tezuka raised his eyebrows. “That’s a fair assessment,” he said. “But understand, Watanuki-kun—right now, you are the number one lead we have in either the Shinohara case or the Yagami case. I want to stop by your workplace, and maybe speak with your employer—“

“You can’t,” the boy blurted. “I mean, Yuuko-san is away. I don’t know what for, but she said she’d be gone a little while. The shop’s closed until she comes back.”

“You know,” Kisaragi said, “if you’d just be honest with us, we wouldn’t have to be quite so blunt.”

Tezuka watched the kid’s face. His eyes were wide, he was pale, and he seemed a total loss for words. Kisaragi’s offer only made him hunch into himself.

“I really don’t know what you want me to say,” he said. He was avoiding their eyes. “I’ve told you the truth.” 

“We can tell when someone lies to us, Watanuki-kun,” Kisaragi said. Her eyes were hard. They always reminded Tezuka of diamonds when they were like that. “You’re lying to us now.”

“I’ve told you the truth,” he said, miserably. His eyes strayed back to the photograph on the table.

“I don’t think you have, Watanuki-kun,” Tezuka said. “I’ve been looking into your background, you know. You aren’t the most stable of people, are you? Screaming fits, throwing yourself to the floor—or street, or wherever it is you happen to be—rarely do you go anywhere besides school without having some sort of fit, am I right?”

“No,” the kid said, “no, mostly I’m fine, really—“

“Are you, though? Do you remember everything that happens during these fits? Because if you don’t, you could probably be let off on reason of insanity….”

“I’m not insane,” the kid said firmly. “If you have no other questions, I really do have get home to finish my homework.”

“We have a lot of questions, Watanuki-kun,” Kisaragi said, “and we’d like it very much if you would come with us to answer them.”

The boy was pale, but he obviously felt he had run out of excuses, and he nodded. “All right,” he said. He suddenly looked very young. “I can’t really tell you anything else, though.”

“We’ll see,” Kisaragi said, and they led the boy out to the car.

Tezuka really wished he hadn’t quit smoking.

***  
The police station was, as usual, busy. Tezuka caught sight of a co-worker sucking down a cigarette and hurriedly turned away, popping a couple sticks of hot cinnamon gum into his mouth. Kisaragi gave him a smile with her eyes, and directed Watanuki to a quiet interrogation room.

“Right in here, Watanuki-kun,” she said. Kisaragi had never been very good at appearing soft and feminine, Tezuka thought. She didn’t pull it off now, either. 

The kid took a seat, and Kisaragi left him there. Tezuka watched from the door.

“What’re you planning on?” he asked as she stepped into the hall, the door shutting behind her with a solid thunk.

“I’m going to let him stew for a little bit,” she said. “That work for you?”

“I suppose,” he said. “Just for a little while, though. I’d like to talk to him in a few minutes—just let me get my files from my desk.”

“Sure thing,” she said, and leaned against the wall, a little away from the door. Tezuka strode off to get his files, chewing his gum and thinking all the while. 

The kid was lying. He and Kisaragi could spot it a mile away, and while he’d occasionally—very occasionally—been fooled by good liars, Kisaragi never had. This kid was not a good liar. But he couldn’t think of any reason, baring guilt for killing Yagami, that could compel the kid to lie. Perhaps if he was protecting someone? But there weren’t many people in Watanuki’s life that he would feel compelled, through emotion or otherwise, to protect so completely.

He scooped up his spare notes and documents for Yagami’s case, and snatched a few from Shinohara’s case as well, even though he was dead certain the kid didn’t know much more than what he’d said concerning her. On his way back he ran over the list of people associated with Watanuki in his mind.

Parents—both dead and gone for years.

The apartment managers—no good there, they were pretty upstanding people from what Kisaragi said, and Watanuki hadn’t been living with them for the past five or six years. There might be some fondness, but not much else.

Who else? There was his friend, Doumeki, but Kisaragi couldn’t find any real problems in the kid’s background. But he had been the one to phone in the discovery of Yagami’s bones, so he couldn’t be ruled out entirely—not with that look that had flashed across Watanuki’s face. Doumeki might know something, or Watanuki might know something, and not want to tell them.

His boss, the as-yet unavailable “Yuuko-san?” Tezuka could not think of a reason for her to kill Yagami, but then, he was a cop. There weren’t a lot of reasons to commit murder in his mind, especially not a child.

No, if Watanuki was protecting anyone other than himself, it would have to be the person he’d discovered the body with. If he was protecting Doumeki, which Tezuka wasn’t convinced he was.

Kisaragi was sipping an iced coffee from the vending machine at the end of the hall. “Got a plan?”

“Not really,” he said. “That’s your department. What do you think?”

“Well, obviously that he’s hiding something,” she said. “But to be honest, I don’t think he killed her.”

“Why lie, then?”

“Protecting someone else,” she said. “Or perhaps he did do something to her, but it didn’t lead to her death, or he doesn’t think it led to her death. Something like that, maybe.”

“Molestation?” Tezuka asked. Kisaragi shrugged. 

“It’s possible,” she said. “He wouldn’t be the first, and he won’t be the last.”

Tezuka thought a moment. “Do you really think that kid goes around molesting little girls?”

Kisaragi shrugged. “Not really,” she said, “but then, that loving father of three? Who would have thought he would abuse all three of his children that badly? He was such a nice man.”

He winced. “Point taken,” he said. He hefted the notes and documents in his hand. “Shall we start?”

She opened the door and snatched up a chair, leaving Tezuka to close it behind him. Watanuki was still very pale, but it looked as though his mask had slid permanently into place, and he wasn’t going to remove it. Tezuka gave an inward sigh and took the remaining chair.

“Let’s go back to Shinohara-san for a moment,” he said, spreading a few notes on the table. “You said she bought a monkey’s paw from your boss?”

Watanuki nodded. He held himself tense and still, and watched them with eyes sharpened by wariness. 

“Was it worth anything?”

The kid shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.

“What did Shinohara pay for it? How much?”

“A promise.”

Kisaragi’s eyebrows nearly met her hairline. “A promise? Not to tell how much she paid?”

“No,” Watanuki said, shaking his head. “Yuuko-san let her take it, on the condition that she never opened it. That’s all.”

Tezuka frowned. “What kind of shop makes money with a system like that?”

“A crazy one,” Watanuki said baldly. “Yuuko-san sells odd things, and receives weird prices. She works through barter.” He must have seen something in their faces—disbelief, perhaps, or simple scorn—and said, “She’s an alcoholic slave driver, okay? I don’t know why she does what she does.”

Tezuka almost believed him on that, since his boss did sound so outlandish, but Kisaragi shifted a little in her seat, and he changed his mind. Still, since said boss was out of reach for the moment, they could move on. “Was the monkey’s paw worth anything to a real antique dealer?”

The boy shrugged. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I mostly just clean the place, and make Yuuko-san dinner.”

Tezuka blew out a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s move back to Yagami Midori-chan.” This time he was the one who slapped her photograph squarely onto the table, in the perfect position for Watanuki to see her face. “Now, Watanuki-kun, we’re here to help the public. Every Japanese citizen, and most especially those in our district. We want to make sure we help catch murderers and rapists, burglars and drug dealers. We want to make the streets safe.”

Kisaragi leaned in close, well within the kid’s line of sight. “We can’t do that if citizens like yourself don’t talk to us.”

His face was stony and coldly polite. “I thought I was a murder suspect?”

“Watanuki-kun, you are one of the closest things we have to a lead in this case,” Tezuka said. “If you confess to Yagami’s murder, we can help you. If you know who did it, we can protect you and bring them to justice.”

“I’ve already explained, detectives,” Watanuki said, “that I’ve never met this girl before.”

Kisaragi huffed irritably and said, “And we’ve already explained that we think you’re lying.” 

Tezuka leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “We just want any information you have regarding Yagami’s death, Watanuki-kun,” he said. “You have to admit, it does look suspicious. I happened to be one of the responding detectives the night you and Doumeki-kun found her body, and I remember thinking how little digging had been done. It was like you didn’t have to try at all. The case wasn’t mine at the time, so I couldn’t do much, but I’ve got a damn good memory for things.” 

He popped another stick of cinnamon gum into his mouth. “So, this is the way Kisaragi and I see it: we have a dead little girl. We have very little evidence, and very few leads. What we do have is a young man, old enough, I would say, to commit murder and know what he was doing, who not only helped find her body, but barely had to dig for it. Despite professing to having never met the murder victim, he showed a surprising fondness when initially shown her photograph, and got very unnerved when caught in an obvious lie. In addition to that, he is known to be antisocial, live alone, and have regular fits, claiming to see or smell things that don’t exist.” Tezuka popped his gum. “Tell me, Watanuki-kun, what conclusions do you expect us to come to?”

The boy wasn’t looking at either of them. He kept his eyes on the table, and more importantly, on Yagami-chan’s picture. 

Kisaragi leaned in and changed tactics. “Tell us about Doumeki Shizuka, Watanuki-kun,” she said. “How is it that the two of you are friends?”

Watanuki just blinked at her for a minute. Then he opened his mouth, and shut it again. He looked as though he was struggling for words.

“We know the two of you fought as soon as you were introduced,” Kisaragi said. “Yet now the two of you are friends. How did that happen?”

Watanuki shrugged. “He irritates me,” he said at last, his voice strained. “He’s always—he has this way of looking that just makes me want to punch him. And for a long time, I thought he was competing with me for Himawari-chan’s affections.”

“When I met you outside your school,” Tezuka said, “you were complaining about making him lunch.”

Watanuki scowled. “He’s helped me out a few times,” he said. “Yuuko-san is a big believer in equal exchange, so I started making him lunch, since I cook all the time anyway. He’s really rude about it, too—never says ‘Thank you’ or anything, always asks for things that are expensive or out of season.” This particular complaint list sounded as though it had been well practiced. 

“But you still make him lunches?”

“Well, yeah,” Watanuki said. “I share them with Himawari-chan, too, and I have to make my own lunch anyway, so it’s not really that difficult to make more. And…” Watanuki scowled again. “And he does help me out a lot. Even if he is a jerk.”

“What does he help you out with, Watanuki?” Kisaragi asked.

“Er…things,” Watanuki said, and Tezuka noticed immediately how he avoided their eyes. “Sometimes he helps me with work, if it’s something that requires two people. And he….” Watanuki bit his lip, thinking. “He doesn’t want me to disappear.”

Kisaragi and Tezuka exchanged a look. Watanuki was oblivious to it; he still hadn’t looked up.

“I understand that you still yell at him quite a bit,” Kisaragi said coolly. “Yet you’re still friends?”

“Yeah, I guess. I help him, too,” he said. “He lives in a temple, and every now and then I help him out with cleaning the grounds.” One hand ghosted up to touch his right eye, which Tezuka filed away as an odd quirk. “And he—he is my friend,” he said quietly. “I yell at him and glare at him. But he does his own share of yelling, too.” He grimaced. “Well, when he’s angry, which is almost never. The rest of the time he’s just irritating.”

“Tell us about Himawari-chan,” Tezuka said. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Watanuki looked up and gave him a sad smile. “No,” he said. “I love her—my day always gets better if I can see her smile. But she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Is she Doumeki’s girlfriend?” Kisaragi asked, sliding a glance to Tezuka. Every detail might help….

“No,” Watanuki said, and shook his head. “We’re all friends, that’s all.” 

“And you’re very sure that Doumeki Shizuka would never commit murder?” Kisaragi asked almost idly.

“Er…” Watanuki hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

“How did the two of you come to find Yagami’s body?” Tezuka asked, popping his gum again. “Two teenage boys digging in a park is kind of odd, Watanuki-kun.”

The kid froze up again. “I don’t remember,” he said, mulishly. 

“You’re lying again, Watanuki-kun,” Kisaragi said. The boy started, but his lips tightened and he returned to staring silently at the table.

They’d been sitting in silence for no more than a minute before a knock on the door startled all of them. A rookie Tezuka vaguely recognized stuck his head in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Tezuka-san,” he said, “but there’s a boy here asking to talk to you. He’s very insistent.”

“Tell him I’m busy,” Tezuka said. The rookie winced. 

“I did, sir. He said that he’d like to help you on one of the cases you’re investigating.”

Tezuka blew out a deep breath. “I’ll be back,” he said to Kisaragi, and followed the rookie out the door.

He supposed, later, that he shouldn’t have been quite so surprised when he saw that the boy waiting for him was Doumeki Shizuka. It gave him a shock, even though the boy seemed to be expecting him.

“Detective Tezuka,” he said, his voice mild and polite. He bowed slightly, which Tezuka returned with one of his own. “I’m Doumeki Shizuka.” He’d changed out of his school uniform into a light blue yukata, patterned with yellow-green ginko leaves. It seemed as though he’d come straight from the temple. “Watanuki is here, isn’t he?”

How the hell…. Tezuka shook himself mentally. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Doumeki-kun,” he said. “Although I would like to talk to you about a couple of cases.”

“I’d be glad to help,” Doumeki said, “but you’re wrong about one thing, Detective.”

“Oh?”

“Watanuki, to a certain extent, is my business.”

Doumeki’s face was almost expressionless, but there was a firm set to his mouth and the corners of his eyes that told Tezuka he was serious, and determined. Tezuka blew out another breath and wished for a cigarette. Hell, half a cigarette. 

“Very well, Doumeki-kun,” he said. “Come with me.”

***  
Doumeki didn’t seem bothered by being seated in an interrogation room, but he’d seemed rather unruffled by just about everything. Tezuka sat down and asked him about Shinohara. 

“She was arrogant,” Doumeki said bluntly. 

“Arrogant?” Tezuka was a little surprised; most of the people he’d interviewed used the word “confident.” “You don’t mean she was confident?”

“She wasn’t confident in herself,” Doumeki said. “Not in her own accomplishments or skills. She was confident in her good luck, and allowed herself to become arrogant.”

“And you think this invited her death?”

Doumeki shrugged. “What has Watanuki told you?”

“We’re not talking about Watanuki-kun,” Tezuka said easily. “Doumeki-kun, what do you think killed Shinohara?”

The boy looked at him. “The monkey’s paw, probably,” he said.

Tezuka blinked. That had not been an answer he was expecting. “A severed monkey’s paw killed a young woman? Is that what you’re saying?” He popped his gum. He was getting sick of chewing it. “That’s very far-fetched, young man.”

“I grew up in a temple,” Doumeki said. “My grandfather saw spirits, and could exorcise them if they needed it.” He was completely composed. “In all the stories about a monkey’s paw, the wishes inevitably end badly. Shinohara-san was making wishes with the paw.”

That surprised Tezuka. “Watanuki-kun made no such claim.”

Doumeki raised an eyebrow. “He ought to know,” he said. “He works for a witch.”

A witch? Tezuka mentally ran over Watanuki’s description of his boss in his mind. “He described her as crazy and alcoholic,” he said. “Where do you get the impression that she’s a witch?”

Doumeki huffed, looking irritated at last. “I’d like to speak with Watanuki, please,” he said. “And if you don’t mind, who is that woman in there with him?”

Tezuka kept his face blank, but inwardly started rather badly at that. Doumeki Shizuka had not met Kisaragi, nor did he have any means of knowing she was still questioning Watanuki-kun.

“What woman, Doumeki-kun? Watanuki is being interviewed by a man.” 

The boy fixed him with a level yellow stare. “There’s a woman with him,” he said. “She has long dark hair and she’s intelligent. I can tell by her eyes.” He paused a moment, and his eyes found a spot over Tezuka’s left shoulder to focus on. “And she’s wearing a dark blue blazer over a white shirt and navy tie. The tie has a tiger-shaped pin on it.”

A shiver crawled and shimmied down Tezuka’s spine. “Doumeki-kun,” he said, “I think it’s time we stopped playing games.”

“I agree,” Doumeki said. “And that’s why I’d like to speak with Watanuki. He’s being an idiot, probably.”

“Hmm,” Tezuka said. “We’ll see, Doumeki-kun,” he said, and rose. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

He left the high school boy sitting placidly, and made his way to the other interrogation room.

“Kisaragi,” he said, “a word, please.”

She gave Watanuki a warning glare, which he ignored, and stepped into the hallway. “What is it?” The door thunked shut behind her, and Tezuka heaved a sigh.

“I have Doumeki Shizuka in Interrogation Room Three,” he said. “He’s telling me some interesting things.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“For one,” he said, “he thinks Shinohara-san was strangled by the monkey’s paw.” Kisaragi’s eyebrows shot up, and her look of disbelief could have seared skin. “He also says that Shinohara-san was making wishes, and that Watanuki’s boss is a witch.”

“None of Doumeki’s school records indicate mental instability or the tendency to lie,” Kisaragi said after a moment. “He seems as though he’s telling the truth?”

“Seems so. And.” Tezuka swallowed. “He knows what you’re wearing, and that you’re interviewing Watanuki-kun.” He watched her absorb this. “I know you didn’t meet him at the school when I saw him with Watanuki-kun,” he said, “and he wasn’t at the Duklyon café. I don’t know how he knew, but there’s more going on here than we first thought.”

Kisaragi leaned back against the wall and absently chewed her lower lip. “Their stories don’t match,” she said, “but they don’t conflict, either. Watanuki could easily be omitting things, or Doumeki could be making things up.”

“I don’t think he is,” Tezuka admitted. “He’s quite sincere, and if he’s a teenager playing a joke, then he’s pretty damn good with the poker face.”

“Hmm,” Kisaragi said. “Watanuki doesn’t seem to be lying outright very much,” she said. “And he’s being pretty honest, all told. But he’s obviously lying about some things, and being evasive about others. Most especially about how he knew Yagami Midori-chan. As for the rest of it….He could be lying by omission.”

Tezuka stared at her. He was surprised that she would even consider that Doumeki wasn’t lying. “You think Doumeki’s telling the truth?”

“I haven’t talked to him,” she said. “But tell me, what did he say that convinced you he wasn’t lying? Any number of policewomen, especially the office ladies, could be wearing what I am.”

“He described your tiger pin,” he said, and pointed to her tie, where a small gold tiger pinned it together.

“Ah,” she said. “I see.”

“He’s insisting on seeing Watanuki,” Tezuka said. “I said we’d see, but I wanted to tell you all that first.” 

Kisaragi crossed her arms. “I think we ought to try it,” she said. “I want to see what Doumeki has to say, I want to know how he knew what I was wearing, I want to know how he knew I was interviewing Watanuki—hell, I want to know how he knew Watanuki was even here. I want to hear what he has to say, and I want to know what Watanuki is hiding.”

“I do, too,” Tezuka said. “If nothing else, I want to hear what they both have to say when they haven’t had a chance to speak before hand.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Doumeki seems intent on talking about ghosts and such nonsense, though, I warn you.”

Kisaragi shrugged. “Let him,” she said. “It may crack Watanuki, who knows? Maybe the kid’s delusional, and thinks he sees ghosts.”

Tezuka hmphed. “I want to ask Doumeki-kun a few more questions,” he said. “About Yagami-chan. Then I’ll bring him over.”

Kisaragi nodded crisply and disappeared back into the interrogation room. Tezuka caught a glimpse of Watanuki through the open door; the kid was staring into space and there was no color in his cheeks.

***  
Tezuka wanted to shake the young man across from him. Doumeki Shizuka was proving to be incredibly blunt, apparently honest, and if one were to actually consider his words, at least a little delusional. 

He claimed to not know Yagami from her picture alone, and it was only when the park was mentioned that he showed any recognition.

“Oh,” he said. “Yes, I remember that. I’d never met her, though, so I had no way of knowing what she looked like.”

“Did Watanuki-kun meet her?”

“I think so,” Doumeki said, and Tezuka felt himself tense ever so slightly. “But by that time, she’d been long dead.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Watanuki can see spirits,” Doumeki said. “I think, to him, he can’t tell the difference between spirits and people. They look solid, and they can touch him, so unless they try to eat him or something, he doesn’t realize that they aren’t alive.”

“Is this something you’ve seen, Doumeki-kun?”

The boy shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “At first I thought he was just an idiot looking for attention. But I started working with him and hanging around him.”

“So you don’t think he’s faking it?”

Doumeki gave him a look. It was hard to decipher whatever it was Doumeki was trying to say with it. “No,” he said at last. “I don’t think he is. I can’t usually see ghosts or spirits, but I’ve seen enough things being around Watanuki to know that he isn’t lying about that.”

Tezuka sat back and shuffled his notes. If what Doumeki said was true—and it was a rather large if, Tezuka thought—then Watanuki was not lying about not knowing Yagami. If what Doumeki said was true, Watanuki had never met Yagami while she was alive. And if Watanuki believed these delusions, as Doumeki so obviously did, then it would explain things a great deal. 

If it was true, and Tezuka didn’t want to dwell on that. The dead were dead, and there were no such things as ghosts and monsters.

“I think,” he said at last, “that it would be best if you followed me, Doumeki-kun.”

***  
Watanuki looked up in surprise when Tezuka returned, and surprise turned to shock when Doumeki followed him into the room. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, glaring at Doumeki. The other boy just raised a hand and pointed at Watanuki’s right eye. Watanuki flinched. 

“But—there’s nothing….”

“I did say another condition may be yourself,” Doumeki said. “I think this proves it.”

Watanuki gave a strangled half-moan. Doumeki looked spectacularly unimpressed with it and took a seat. Tezuka watched them with narrowed eyes; there was something between the two of them that he and Kisaragi hadn’t quite figured out.

“What are you being charged with?” Doumeki asked. Watanuki looked at him, his face completely blank.

“Huh?”

Doumeki heaved a sigh. “Are they charging you with anything?”

“Oh, er, no. Well, they said I might be a murder suspect. But I haven’t been formally arrested. They just wanted to ask some questions.” Tezuka could see that for all his complaints, Watanuki relaxed around Doumeki in a way he hadn’t done around himself or Kisaragi, not even at the Duklyon diner. 

“We still have some questions to ask,” Kisaragi said, “such as why the two of you are telling such different stories—or at least different versions of them—and how Doumeki-kun here knows some of the things he does.”

“Like what?” Watanuki asked. He looked honestly confused.

“Such as how he knew you were here,” Tezuka said. Watanuki blinked. 

“…Oh,” he said, and there was a weight of knowledge in his voice. “It…it must have been a lucky guess.”

Doumeki glanced at Watanuki sharply. He hissed out a breath. “….You are an idiot.”

Watanuki appeared too tired to launch into a tirade like he had that afternoon. “Don’t call me an idiot,” he said, and he sounded weary. “Detectives, I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything that can help you—“

“Watanuki-kun,” Kisaragi said. He looked up at her, polite and tired. “We know you are lying. Doumeki-kun appears to be telling us rather fantastical stories, and he believes he’s telling the truth. You tell us reasonable, proper, sensible things, and we believe you are hiding something. I think there’s something going on, and we would like to know what it is.”

Watanuki had that look again, the pale, slightly cornered look he’d had at the diner. Doumeki cleared his throat.

“Do you have any evidence to charge him with?”

Kisaragi and Tezuka exchanged a glance.

“No,” Tezuka said at last. “We have nothing with which to charge Watanuki-kun except our gut instinct, and that is not permissible in a court of law.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I was telling the truth, Watanuki-kun, when I said you’re the closest thing we have to any sort of lead. If you can tell us anything, it would help.”

Watanuki didn’t look at him. “I doubt it,” he said. “I don’t think you’d believe me anyway.” He looked up, his eyes fierce and mismatched behind his glasses. “I know there’s people who think I’m lying or crazy. I’m neither and I’m not going to—to some hospital or institution.”

Kisaragi traded a glance with him again, and Tezuka cleared his throat. “No one here thinks you’re crazy, Watanuki-kun,” he said, trying to make his voice gentle. Watanuki snorted and gave him a scathing look.

“I’m sure,” he said. “I see spirits, Detective Tezuka. I see ghosts and monsters, I can smell and feel and hear and taste them. A lot of really horrible ones would love to eat me.” He gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “I’m not the smartest guy, but even I can tell that sounds crazy.”

Kisaragi leaned forward. “Have you always seen them?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral. Watanuki nodded. 

“It’s in my blood,” he said. “Yuuko-san said I inherited it, just like Doumeki.”

Tezuka looked at the other teenager, silently sitting next to Watanuki and just observing. “You see spirits, Doumeki-kun?”

“Not really,” he said. “But I can exorcise negative spirits.”

“Just by breathing,” Watanuki muttered. He sounded catty, but Tezuka could see shadows in his eyes, and his hands shook. 

He wasn’t the only one watching, either. Doumeki had kept an eye on Watanuki the entire time they’d been in the same room, and the boy had spared only a glance or two for the detectives. It was as though he considered Watanuki the most important—or the most vulnerable—person in the room.

“We have come to an impasse,” Tezuka said finally. “The two of you claim you have seen and dealt with spirits and witches, which is all well and good, but you don’t seem to realize that two people have been murdered, and that that is what we are questioning you about. I would greatly appreciate it if the two of you would stop playing games and instead tell us what you know, however little or unhelpful it may be.”

Doumeki frowned. “I’ve told you all I know about Shinohara-san,” he said, “and about Yagami-san. Watanuki’s just been an idiot.”

“Shut up, you cretin,” Watanuki said, but his voice was lacking in any actual heat. “Detectives, I’m sorry—all I know is that Shinohara bought a monkey’s paw and made wishes with it.”

Tezuka pounced. “You didn’t mention that before.” 

“No,” Watanuki said, “I didn’t. I know how crazy it sounds. But she did make wishes—she wished for it to rain, and the next day all the water in the school swimming pool was gone.”

“How does that work?” Kisaragi asked. Watanuki shrugged. 

“Yuuko-san said you can’t get something for nothing,” he said. “The material for her wishes had to come from somewhere.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “And I didn’t meet Yagami-chan when she was alive. I met her in this…this limbo-like place, and she was lonely. I don’t know who killed her, or how she died. When I came out of it she was gone and I was holding what was left of her hand.” 

“And that’s all you can tell us, Watanuki-kun?” Tezuka asked, disappointed. The kid nodded. 

“Why did you lie about knowing her?” Kisaragi asked. Watanuki shrugged. 

“You think I’m lying now, don’t you?” he said. “You think that there’s no such thing as ghosts and monsters. I know people think I’m crazy, that I have some sort of mental illness.” He looked Tezuka straight in the eye. “I don’t want to go to a hospital. I’m not crazy.”

“Of course not,” Tezuka said. Inwardly, he had to wonder, not only about the boy’s sanity, but that there were apparently at least two people enabling it. Doumeki seemed to know Watanuki’s stories by heart, and even went to the extreme of supporting them…and his boss didn’t seem much better if she encouraged him to think she was a witch who granted wishes.

He wondered if Watanuki was just a very lonely boy who didn’t know any better than to believe these…made-up fantasies. He had lost his parents at a very young age, after all.

The bag next to Watanuki’s chair rustled. It was a plain paper shopping bag that he’d had with him when he appeared at the Duklyon diner. Tezuka frowned; what could he be carrying that moved? A look of panic crossed Watanuki’s face and Doumeki’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline.

“Er,” Watanuki said. He laughed nervously. “Sorry, sorry—one of the animals at Yuuko’s shop likes to follow me around, sometimes. He sneaks into my clothes and bags and things.” Rather than being red with embarrassment, Watanuki was pale. 

“Ah,” Kisaragi said. “We don’t allow animals in the building, Watanuki-kun.”

“Sorry,” he said again. “He’ll stay in there.”

“What is it?” Tezuka asked, idly curious. Watanuki and Doumeki answered at the same time.

“A snake.”

“A fox.”

Tezuka could feel his eyebrows crawl towards his hairline. What kind of creature got mistaken for a fox and a snake? Perhaps this was more proof that both boys were obviously unbalanced, no matter what public records said.

He and Kisaragi didn’t get a chance to say anything, however, because Watanuki jerked back with a cry and a long, furry thing slid up his arm and wrapped itself around his neck, nuzzling his cheek and, well, it wasn’t purring, but it was damn close. Tezuka had never seen anything like it. It was like a snake, having no legs at all, but it was furry like a fox, and even had tiny, triangular ears. He couldn’t see its eyes.

“What,” Kisaragi asked, her voice like knives, “is that?”

“Er,” Watanuki said. He was trying to unwind the thing from his neck, and failing. It rather liked being there, apparently. “Er. This is a pipe fox spirit.”

Doumeki leaned forward and gently caught the thing. “It likes Watanuki,” he said. The thing turned around and wound itself around Doumeki’s hand before zipping back to Watanuki and curling around his shoulders.

“He really likes me,” was all Watanuki could say. 

“And that is your…pet?” Tezuka asked. Watanuki shook his head. 

“Oh, no! No, he belongs to Yuuko-san. He was payment, actually, for the job where I met Yagami-san.” Watanuki stroked the thing’s head. 

“Well.” Tezuka wasn’t certain what he could say. This was either a mass hallucination, an incredibly clever robotic toy (and pulled out at just the right moment, no less), or….

Or it was real.

Kisaragi leaned closer to Watanuki and held out a hand. “May I?” she asked, her voice icily polite. Watanuki made some noise of assent, and she touched the thing on what Tezuka assumed was its head. 

“It’s real fur,” she said, after a moment. Tezuka surged to his feet.

“It can’t be,” he said, and reached forward. The snake-thing darted under his fingers, and he caught his breath. It was real fur, silky and brindled, and it writhed under his hand like a live animal. 

“What kind of prank is this?” he demanded, looking at both boys. They stared back at him, one unconcerned and the other startled and wary.

“It’s not a prank, Detective,” Watanuki said at last. “He is a pipe fox spirit.” He held his free hand out, and the snake-thing immediately darted into his shirt. Watanuki twitched and wriggled, half-giggling. “Wa-wa-waaa! Stop!”

A little furry head poked out from the boy’s collar, and Watanuki sighed. “Don’t do that,” he said. “You’re ticklish.”

“You’re serious,” Tezuka said, and dropped into his chair so hard he jarred his bones. “You’re actually serious.”

Doumeki had a slightly smug look on his face, an “I told you” look that he was too diplomatic to say. Watanuki looked extremely uncomfortable. 

“Yes, Detective,” he said at last. “I’m very serious.” He stroked the snake-thing’s head with one hand. “May I go home now?”

Tezuka exchanged one last look with Kisaragi, and read his resolution echoed in hers. “Of course, Watanuki-kun,” he said, irritable “Do you want a ride? I know we drove quite a ways.”

“No need,” Doumeki said, rising slowly. “He can stay at the temple tonight.”

Watanuki gave him what was obviously a low-level glare. “Thanks for asking, you creep,” he said, but it had no heat, just as before. He looked as though he was simply too tired. 

Kisaragi stopped them with Doumeki’s hand on the door of the interrogation room. “Doumeki-kun,” she said. “One question before you go.”

“Ah.” He didn’t remove his hand from the doorknob.

“How is it you knew Watanuki-kun was here? He didn’t make any phone calls.”

Doumeki glanced at Watanuki, who sighed and pulled off his glasses.

“My right eye,” he said, looking at them, one eye blue and the other hawk-yellow. “I…lost the vision in it some time ago. Doumeki gave me half of his.” He shifted, looking very uncomfortable. “We share it, sometimes.”

Doumeki nodded crisply, and opened the door; within a moment they were both gone, and Tezuka couldn’t even hear the rustling of Watanuki’s shopping bag any longer.

Thick silence blanketed the space between him and Kisaragi. At last his partner moved, breaking the stillness with a rustle of clothing.

“Well,” she said, “back to basics with Yagami-chan, at least.”

“And Shinohara?” Tezuka ran a hand through his hair and dug a hand into his pocket, looking for a pack of cigarettes he knew he wouldn’t find. “What about her?”

“The only thing we can do,” Kisaragi said. “Nothing. Can you imagine telling the chief?”

That startled a laugh out of him. “Oh yes,” he said. “I can. ‘So, Chief Natsuyama, we’ve deduced that Shinohara-san was throttled by a severed monkey’s paw. This explains the lack of contusions and the long finger length.’ Oh, that would go over wonderfully. I’d end up in an institution somewhere.” He gave a laugh that was half sob. “The sad thing is, that does explain it. No bruises, the fingers too long to be human…it fits.”

Kisaragi was silent for a moment, then stood up and pushed her chair in. “I’ve got Friday off,” she said. “I’ll come by and pick you up for lunch. We’ll stop at a shrine and send her some prayers.”

Tezuka turned the thought over in his mind. “It’s not justice,” he said, “but it’ll have to do, won’t it?”


End file.
